Drowning in the Darkness
by Prosper-the-XVIII
Summary: Spoilers for QoS. "Surely to god he wasn't stupid enough to try and kill her in the suite, was he?" Strawberry Fields's death was a pointless cold-blooded killing. And not to mention, slow and incredibly painful...


"Fields, run," M's voice sounded urgent, but Fields couldn't work out what the hell she was on about. Instinctively, Fields put her hand to her earpiece. "What?"

"Fields, take your hand off of your ear, stop talking and run like hell. Greene's right behind you." Fields hazarded a quick glance behind her, and the somewhat terrifying yet strangely cute face of Dominick Greene was less than a few feet from her own. She screamed and turned to run, throwing open the door and skidding on the parquet floor of the corredor. As Greene walked out of the room steadily, then hastening to a jog, then a run, Fields upped her pace, but felt something jolt in her bottom half. The heel of her shoe had snapped off and she had fallen headlong, her right leg folding underneath her. She noticed that her foreleg, from ankle to knee, was no longer straight, but bent and flattened into a V shape, the jagged ends of broken bones threatening to push through her eerily pale skin. It hurt too much to move, and she could tell that whatever Greene was intending to do to her would now be a whole lot easier since she couldn't walk; at that, she could hardly move any part of her body.

Greene seized hold of Fields's crumpled frame, yanking her upright. As her shattered leg bent even further back than it had been in the first place, she let out a low groan of agony, which earned her a slap in the face from Greene. "Shuddup!" he growled in her ear, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her almost gently back to the room. He quickly hurled her onto the bed; she landed face-down and actually screamed this time, tears running down her face. She nearly choked as Greene yanked her dress over her head and began lightly pulling off the strap of her bra with his teeth, exposing cleavage and a fair amount of breast. Oh no, surely to God he wasn't going to do that, was he?

"What's your name?" Greene said abruptly, finishing pulling off her bra and starting on her knickers. She winced as his hand came into contact with her leg, gritting her teeth and trying not to make a noise.

"S-Strawberry Fields..." She stammered, cringing at the sound of her ridiculous name.

"Ah, Strawberry," Greene said softly, a note of malice in his voice. "Bet you gave your parents hell for that, didn't you? Well, Strawberry, you'd better hope this kills you, or else it's torture time." Greene picked her up again, this time being far less careful and hurting her leg even more. Where was he taking her? Surely he wasn't stupid enough to try and kill her in the suite, was he? It became apparent that he was when he forced open the door to the bathroom, using a combination of his shoulder and her hip. And flung her into the bath. It was amazing how easily her injured leg gave underneath her when it came into contact with the hard enamel. To her possibly too obvious relief, there was something in it to break her fall maybe a little, but whatever the hell it was, it definitely wasn't water. She had managed to sort of keep her head clear of whatever it was, the most obvious explanation being crude oil, as it was an opaque black liquid that was coating her bare skin and sticking to it, but she grimaced at the feeling of it entering her body. How the hell it had gotten there in the first place she didn't know, but she was guessing that one of Greene's rats had put it there when she and James had been out. "Right," Greene said slowly. "I've seen you with James Bond, who do you work for?"

"N-no one," Fields choked. "I'm a bloody office assistant..." Lies, but this was her cover story. She wasn't an agent, but she had been given one all the same.

"Oh," Greene seemed to take this without question and looked saddened as he held Fields's face into the bath, drenching her fully. As he hauled her out, carried her through to the main bedroom and unceremoniously flung her onto the bed, Fields landing face-down in a fresh burst of agony, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry. What a waste. Goodbye, Strawberry." There was black slime up her nose, in her eyes and the strawberry blonde hair that she was named for and it was dripping all over the floor as she had been totally drenched in the stuff. She had had the sense to keep her mouth shut, but she could barely open it now for fear of swallowing any of it. She still made herself speak, though. "I-I can't see..." She raised her head, searching blindly for any signs of Greene. She had accidentally swallowed some of the oil as she spoke, and she felt herself gag. She opened her eyes as she was sick all over herself and the floor. The faint haze that now apparently passed for her vision now made out black bile all over the floor. More of the oil flooded into her mouth; she accidentally inhaled it and exploded into a coughing fit. None of the vile dark substance she was covered in came out this time, just ominously black-looking phlegm. And a lot of it.

An hour passed. Fields still wasn't dead, but she was pretty damn close. She couldn't move, her leg was still agony Her lungs were still clogged with the stuff and it was refusing to leave any room for oxygen. She couldn't breathe. Every time she breathed, she just ended up inhaling more of the oil. She thought that on one hand, contacting M would let her know that she was dying and not to panic when she was found, and talking might kill her a little faster - she was losing the will to live by now, which was actually a pretty good thing as she was probably going to die anyway - but on the other, speaking or moving her lips at all was painful. She had always thought that drowning involved being submerged completely in liquid of some description, but since suffocating didn't really fit what was happening to her, she assumed that she was actually drowning in the stuff she was covered in. She choked again, and more oil-laced phlegm came out. Well, now she knew that if people had to die, then doing it quickly and getting it over with was far less painful.

As the dark haze that she could see through her reddened eyes faded to white, she knew that all was done. It was over. Part of her didn't want it to be. But it was...


End file.
